Cricket season latest; rain

As predicted the weather yesterday put paid to any notion of going to watch any cricket at Arundel Castle. Roll on our departure back to France, two days of crap weather and I have had enough of England, and the eternal decorating.

Living with That Nice Lady Decorator, one tends to expect some decorating activity from time to time, but recently this has taken on a new frenzy. For some deeper decorating reason, some things have to be painted and repainted up to 3 times and as it seems everything must be painted, even doors which were not painted before, there is an all-pervading small of paint. If I do not keep moving I shall expect to be painted myself (not in the way I was for the cover of my book The Valbonne Monologues, sales of which will rocket once I get back to Valbonne for the summer).

I cracked yesterday. Having picked my way around the various pots and paints, dust sheets and paint trays in the lounge, dining room, bathroom and bedroom to fetch lunch from the Co-op, finding no clear surfaces and more decorating paraphernalia in the kitchen, then getting wet whilst taking out the rubbish and then hitting my head on the ridiculously low beam into the kitchen, I retired, stressed and throbbing, to the calm and serenity of the George and Dragon at Houghton for a late lunch. A lovely whole plaice and a couple of pints of Ringwood, now my third favourite beer in the world , restored some humanity, but not all, as I still got infested with sideways drizzle walking or rather sprinting back to the house. My picture today was taken in happier weather tunes. Last week we were visiting the New Forest in the last of the summer sun, where I took this picture of some of the wild horses which roam the area.

Wild horses frolic in last weeks sunshine

I am not sure if you all read the comments section of this column, but yesterday, the Reverend Jeff posted a poem he has written about John Prescott for the very highbrow publication (not) the Daily Mail. This is, of course, a shameless attempt by The Reverend at self promotion of the most tasteless kind, which is why I let it run. Us writers (even those nowhere near as accomplished as my good self) must stick together, and it is only by publishing ones work that one can be exposed to scrutiny, so if you read it, please be kind, he is a dear friend and trying very hard.

Before I venture out to the Arundel Castle cricket ground, I shall attempt a walk on the South Downs, assuming I can find enough warm clothes, oilskins and a suitable hat to keep out the cold and the wet. I may keep this exact costume for the cricket, although I am told that there is a nice members tent, which, if it has not blown away in the gales, and there is no impediment to me becoming a member today, of which I shall be making full use. I consider that this will be a justifiable business expense as I shall be joining not for personal benefit, but to establish a new conduit into the great and good locally, many of whom are crying out for the services of Currencies Direct but do not know it yet. No doubt my accountant, who reads this column, will do his best to disavow me of this opinion, with dire warnings as to the consequences in terms of tax. It will depend on how persuasive are his arguments as to how the expense will be dealt.

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Well one likes to try and inject some humour into the blag from time to time. This poem actually appeared in the Mail some time ago at the time of Prezza’s ill deserved enoblement. I got a stack of letters from readers saying how much they’d enjoyed it. Besides I was under the illusion that the blag was designed as a testimony to self promotion of the most shameless kind …!